


Caged

by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Psychological Torture, Trapped, Well - Freeform, Whump, actually only hurt nevermind, mostly just hurt, nothing physical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 12:13:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays/pseuds/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays
Summary: Someone uses Peter’s powers against him, and not at all in the way you’d expect





	Caged

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I got this idea from that one tumblr post about disturbingly realistic superheroes and decided to run with it so I might do more with other heroes listed there

People always shoot up in movies. They always jump to their feet as everything before their kidnapping comes back in a rush. It wasn’t like that for Peter.

 

First, he was aware of how badly his back hurt. Why? Oh, he was laying on a hard surface. That’s two things he knows, now.

 

Number three: he was tired, like he had fallen asleep after school and was groggily being led to dinner with May. He would have gladly gone back to sleep if the fourth thing he knew hadn’t hit him like a truck.

 

He could feel the floor on his scalp.

 

_What the hell?_

 

Peter finally opened his eyes, trying to blink away the soft film that always covered them when he awoke. And as he tried to run a hand through his hair, he found there was none.

 

And that’s when he shot up.

 

He rapidly checked over the rest of his body. He still had all his limbs, all his teeth, and unless someone here was really skilled in body painting, he was still wearing his suit. He leaned back on his hands. Why, if nothing else was disturbed, was his fucking  _hair_ gone? Had he not been so discombobulated he may have pouted; he had just gotten a new conditioner, too!

 

But he didn’t have time for that, because unless he was an amnesiac or a sleepwalker or some shit, he definitely hadn’t shaved his own head. So who had? Peter thought he needed to get the hell out of...wherever he was and find out.

 

And that’s when shit got weird. Because as Peter swiveled his head around, he found that he was in a medium sized, stark-white room. No furniture, no decor, no windows, and strangely enough, no doors. All the walls were identical.

 

 _How did I get in here_?

 

He was just crumpled in the middle of some empty cube. Helpless. Cold. Bald.

 

But he didn’t have time to ponder. Wherever he was, there was no food, no water, and no toilet, so he had to find a way out before he could figure out how he got there at all.

 

He stood, going over all the options in his mind. Could the building have been built around him? No, that would have taken too much time.  _Life isn’t The Sims, Peter._

 

So...how else could he have gotten there? Because if he made it in, there had to be a way to make it out again.

 

Then, it clicked. A hidden door! Yes, so many places had hidden doors, underneath wallpaper so they couldn’t be seen. There...was no wallpaper, Peter noted as he glanced over the shiny white walls, but he could make do. He checked from the floor up, eventually having crawled all over what must have been the room with nothing to show for it.

 

Ok, so no door. Peter thought the next logical step was to get to the ground again and work on a new plan.

 

Except he couldn’t tell where the floor was.

 

He jumped to the opposite wall. He climbed to the adjacent one. He crawled directly into a corner. And  _which one of them was down?_

 

The walls were all identical. So were the floor and ceiling. He could have been pointing in any direction and not even known which one.

 

”Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit,” Peter whispered. He knew he’d get in trouble with May if she knew he’d been cursing, but at the moment he didn’t know if he would see her again.

 

Alright. He couldn’t panic. It was just a room, he’d been in plenty before. He just needed to find a way to gage which way was up.

 

And that was when the real problems started occurring. He realized that whoever had put him in there had planned for this to happen, because Peter couldn’t dent the walls in no matter how hard he punched, so markings were out of the question. His suit wasn’t responding and he didn’t have his mask, so there was nothing he could drop to find the floor. His webshooters were gone—taken—and he realized with a pang of fear in his chest that this must have been why his head was shaved, so he couldn’t let his hair droop to the floor.

 

Peter could hardly breathe. He kept climbing, crawling, punching, anything to find a way down, but nothing worked.

 

He jumped, and he was too strong to be pulled any way by gravity.

 

He tried to let his muscles slacken so he’d fall down. They refused. He couldn’t fathom why beyond spider reflexes.

 

He couldn’t unstick all of his hands at once. He couldn’t find down. 

 

_He couldnt find down._

 

Food and water weren’t a problem; he was found not two days later, clinging to the ceiling and staring blankly at nothing. Peter would have been shamed to have been broken by such a small thing as gravity and spider powers.

 

But that was the thing about being still so human; he had no bearing on what would reduce him from Peter Parker to an unresponsive shell of a boy.

 

If he still had a mind to shatter, it certainly would have at May’s heartbroken tears when the doctors said that it may never come back again.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I make this like an ongoing series where all the avengers have their powers used against them??? Hell if I know!!!!!!!!!


End file.
